


Boy, One Taste of What I've Got

by oneforyourfire



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, foodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: A sticky, sticky, sweet mess, Joonmyun's for the taking (aka Jongdae is Joonmyun's birthday sundae)





	Boy, One Taste of What I've Got

**Author's Note:**

> warning: barebacking, foodplay
> 
> title from 50 cent's "candy shop"

Jongdae like this is—by his own humble, breathy assessment—a feast to behold. A veritable fucking banquet.

Laid bare and open on their cobalt blue sheets, lean limbs spread, head tipped back against a mountain of pillows.

"Your sundae,” Jongdae trills in that fucking _voice_ , all breathy and encouraging, affected with just the slightest bite of snark. There's only the slightest, slightest hint of teasing in his tone, the vaguest cutting edge to his eyes. A reminder of sorts. Jongdae chose this, to be like this. Like he always fucking chooses to be like this for Joonmyun. And he can—as always—fucking take it back.

It’s Joonmyun’s birthday, and he’s playing a part. Just, just for him.

The gesture is equal parts hot and affectionate, has a heavy pulse of arousal pooling deep in Joonmyun navel, a potent surge of affection swelling in his chest. He’s filled to the brim with emotions, just fucking _stares_ at Jongdae for a long, long moment.

“Your sundae,” Jongdae repeats, catching Joonmyun's eyes, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and fluttering his eyelashes in false coyness, blatant seduction and invitation.

And yes, on the beside, by their alarm clock, Joonmyun’s stack of book club novels, there’s a bottle of chocolate syrup, a jar of maraschino cherries, a can of whipped cream. Because Joonmyun, Joonmyun a month ago, in the afterglow, he’d whispered something to the effect of maybe wanting to—

And it always, always pays to tell Jongdae what he wants. Jongdae always always pays attention, fucking delivers.

Joonmyun just got home. He is still dressed in his work clothes. He can still taste the frosting from his Bashas brand cake in the back of his mouth. His jaw is slack, breathing labored, eyes fucking glued to Kim Jongdae, beautiful, perfect, perfect boyfriend, his sundae, Joonmyun's fucking sundae.

He's been rendered speechless, swallows several, several times as he drinks in the sight.

“Fuck, Jongdae," he finally says.

“Yes,” Jongdae agrees airily. “ _Fuck_ Jongdae. Ruin these sheets for my sake. Open your present."

And Joonmyun crosses the room in two, three strides, reaches out to touch him. One long slow drag of his fingers up Jongdae's bare thigh.

Jongdae's already halfhard, the attention, maybe, or the anticipation of it. And Joonmyun’s hand skates upwards to cup him fully, appreciatively. Jongdae's throat jumps, legs spreading further, eyelashes fluttering at the movement. Joonmyun spares a languid stroke as he speaks. His voice is too strained already, full of too much _want_ to be as teasing as he wants it to be. “Rude of you not to be ready for me, sundae,” he groans. “Rude to make me prepare you myself."

“I _am_ ready," Jongdae counters, breathily, affected still, performative still, but not as much, sexual frustration bleeding into his tone. Joonmyun gifts him with another tug, and Jongdae pulses in his hold, lets out a soft, soft moan. “Didn’t want to melt and get all sloppy without you,” he drawls, the last syllable hitching off with the slightest, most arousing whine. "Want you to dress me to your liking. It’s the best part, right? Making me your treat."

Joonmyun’s thumb circles the flared head of Jongdae’s cock, and Jongdae bites his lower lip hard, thinks better of it and lets his mouth fall open with a soft, filthy moan.

“Come on,” Jongdae whines, chasing the friction that Joonmyun’s palm provides.

Joonmyun pulls his hand back, works off his tie, his button-up, drops his pants. Stripped to an undershirt, his boxers—something, something for Jongdae to peel away—Joonmyun kneels in the middle of their bed, looms over him, and Jongdae scoots higher, pauses briefly to kick their pillows off the bed. Jongdae fists his hands in Joonmyun’s shirt, drags him forward into a fierce kiss, tugging at what’s left of Joonmyun’s clothes. Joonmyun groans into it, and Jongdae pulls away only enough to pant that Joonmyun can do whatever he wants as the _birthday boy_.

Joonmyun does, gropes for the bottles. He smears chocolate across Jongdae’s collarbone, drops a cherry onto one nipple, the other, rests a third on his bellybutton. He paints Jongdae’s chest and navel in white trails of whipped cream.

A sticky, sticky, sweet mess, Joonmyun's for the taking.

Joonmyun’s gonna enjoy this. Drink in every detail.

He braces himself on both arms, allows himself one long, long kiss before gliding down.

The chocolate is too gooey, too rich on his tongue. But it congeals thick and gorgeous across Jongdae’s skin, a beautiful contrast, and Joonmyun pulls away to squeeze another dollop, lower . It slides down Jongdae’s chest, and Joonmyun sucks it off.

“Would it really—?” Jongdae pants, tangling his fingers in Joonmyun’s hair. “Would it have been better if I had gotten ready. I debated. Wanted to text you, but it would’ve ruined the surprise.” Joonmyun suckles a cherry into his mouth, laves Jongdae’s nipple with a luxurious lick, and Jongdae breaks off with a wet moan.

"No," Joonmyun decides, shifting his attention to the other nipple, relishing in Jongdae’s breathless gasp. "No, I like this."

Joonmyun can still make out the musk of Jongdae beneath the sticky sweetness of it all, a rich familiar lingering aftertaste on his tongue, in the back of his mouth as he kisses his way down Jongdae’s warm, pliant body.

And he continues to mouth at his sticky-sweet skin. The whipped cream has his humming around a lick, reaching out to put more, watching it streak down Joonmyun’s body in an obscene promise of later, later activities.

Joonmyun licks his way down the dip of his bellybutton. And that smears, too, spreading red and shiny to highlight the contours of his smooth, straining skin.

His cock is so fucking hard now, flushed, and pulsing against Joonmyun’s collarbone as he glides down to spread Jongdae’s legs. He licks at that, too, sucks at that, too.

Joonmyun briefly entertains the idea of dropping more whipped cream, swallowing it as he swallows Jongdae down deep. But he elects instead to lick him like this, as is. Jongdae is bare and musky and pulsing, a familiar warmth on his tongue, saturating his senses.

Joonmyun pulls away after two slick glides, licks his lips deliberately to make Joonmyun groan.

“You look so good,” Jongdae moans, his thumb dropping to the corner of Joonmyun’s mouth, smearing there as he pants. “Fuck, hyung." A beat. "Fuck me, hyung. "

Joonmyun hums instead, spares another lick. “Taste so good."

Jongdae’s breathing is labored, escaping in harsh pants as his body trembles, bows towards Joonmyun’s teasing kisses. His face pinches with pleasure.

"You’re beautiful," Joonmyun groans, and Jongdae’s eyelashes flutter at the compliment. “I love you."

“Me, too. Now—now please."

And Jongdae fumbles into the drawer, decidedly clumsy with arousal. He drops the lube near Joonmyun’s shoulder with a breathless “please."

Joonmyun slicks a single finger, eases it slowly inside, and Jongdae’s throat bobs with a moan. A second has Jongdae’s chest rising and falling rapidly. A spearing curl, and his eyelashes are fluttering. And Joonmyun decides to fuck them in earnest.

Joonmyun watches the sleek, smooth muscles straining, dancing beneath Jongdae's tan skin as he arches towards his touch. His hips twitch upwards in jerky stutter fucks. "This is how you want me?" Jongdae pants, maybe teases, but it’s too desperate.

“Yes,” Joonmyun responds anyway, spreading his fingers, licking languidly at Jongdae’s cock, increasing his pace.

And Jongdae writhes down onto his fingers, moaning openly, obscenely all the while. He asks Joonmyun if he can touch himself as Joonmyun works, thighs trembling as Joonmyun crooks his fingers. Joonmyun presses a bite to his thigh as he hums in assent.

And Jongdae groans in relief as he fists himself. He’s teasing with himself as Joonmyun watches, works a third finger inside. Jongdae's hold is too loose, the drag of his palm too short. And he isn’t pinching his own nipples or tugging his own hair like when he wants to make himself come fast. When he’s doing it purely for his own sake.

“Gonna, fuck me birthday boy,” he manages, words wrecked. “Gonna come inside me and claim me properly?"

Joonmyun ignores him, fucks his fingers just the slightest bit faster, dragging it out deliberately, relishing in Jongdae’s instant reaction. His thighs tremble against Joonmyun’s sides.

Joonmyun draw it out, works Jongdae open until he is a mess of tan quivering limbs, dark glazed eyes, harsh harsh moans. His eyebrows are pinched, and his mouth hangs open in the most darkly decadent display of pleasure.

And and and—

“ _Fuck_ me," Jongdae breathes, the purest, most persuasive provocation. Honest now, no no no affectation, just pure need. “Put your cock in me. Come _on_."

“Yes,” Joonmyun agrees, dropping one last kiss, trying still—

But Jongdae wrests back control, and Joonmyun groans heavily as he’s manuevered onto his back, Jongdae immediately climbing into his lap with a husky, tight laugh. Jongdae pins him with his strained muscles, his dark eyes.

“Wanna ride you,” Jongdae pants, dragging him into a heavy kiss as he fumbles behind him. He gives Joonmyun’s cock an appraising squeeze, steadies himself, before sinking down.

Joonmyun groans into his mouth, and Jongdae moans shakily, sucks hard on Joonmyun’s bottom lip

Joonmyun’s hands wrap around Joonmyun’s waist, grounding himself, Jongdae, as Jongdae leans back to brace himself against Joonmyun’s thighs. He’s so fucking tight like that, hot and slick and perfect, and Joonmyun swallows a moan, earns a smirk for his effort.

Positioned like that, eager to make it count for the _birthday boy’s_ sake, Jongdae pauses only the slightest, slightest moment before he goes fast and _hard_ , like he fucking lives for this.

Joonmyun’s eyes fight to stay open as he moans at the gorgeous, gorgeous sensations.

“Feels so good,” Jongdae rasps, pausing to grind, in the process tipping himself further away from Joonmyun. And the angle, the angle is fucking perfect, but Jongdae he’s too, too far way like this.

Joonmyun urges him closer with a breathy plea, tugs Jongdae into a kiss, and Jongdae braces himself on Joonmyun’s shoulders now, fucks down smooth and perfect like this, too.

Joonmyun grips at the sticky mess of Jongdae's skin as he fucks upwards, and Jongdae’s head tips forward suddenly, crashing against Joonmyun’s chest. Jongdae pants and moans and whimpers into his skin. “So good,” he repeats. “So fucking _good_."

“Yeah?” And Joonmyun’s breath is so fucking shaky, his voice so fucking _ruined_.

“Yes—fuck—almost...almost as good as having my cock inside you."

Joonmyun groans, and Jongdae laughs around a patronizing moan, stamps kisses and bites and shaky groans along the column of Joonmyun’s throat as he moves.

And from thereon out, everything devolves into the resounding slaps of skin against skin and loud cracking moans. Jongdae’s, Joonmyun’s own.

So good, it’s all so so so good.

Joonmyun works a hand between them after a while, strokes Jongdae into a trembling, gasping, gasping mess. But even then Jongdae manages to clench tightly around him, claw at Joonmyun’s back, whine his name in that long, long way. Sensory overload, playing dirty, and Joonmyun groans loudly with climax, cock pulsing and hips fucking upwards erratically as he’s inundated with a potent surge of pleasure. Joonmyun collapses back with force of it.

His ears are ringing, his body thrumming with pleasure, but he registers the sound of Jongdae’s own high, high cry.

"Fuck, Jongdae,” he breathes reverently as the younger melts into him with a breathless laugh. And Jongdae’s grin, though strained, crooked at the corners, it's calculating still, smug.

Softening, Joonmyun eases himself out of Joonmyun’s body, wincing at the wet, filthy squelch as he rubs affectionately at Jongdae’s eyebrows, his bangs.

“Good?” Jongdae teases, dragging his fingernails in the barest, most exquisite scrape. Joonmyun hums his assent, and Jongdae’s grin widens. His eye twinkle, crinkle as he hums in turn, muses aloud. His fingers splay across Joonmyun’s chest. “Good enough for you to wear a dress again?” he proposes. “When _I’m_ the birthday boy?"

And Joonmyun nods with a shiver, a deep deep groan. “Yes,” he manages, swallowing past the hot, hot recollection of how Jongdae had ripped it at the seams in his eagerness to get at Joonmyun's skin.

“Good,” Jongdae smiles, pressing it tight to the hollow of Joonmyun’s throat. Along with a sigh, a succulent kiss. And sticky as Jongdae is, he adheres to Joonmyun in the places where their bare skin brushes, a reminder of sorts. But Jongdae releases a sound of protest when Joonmyun makes to pull away, clean them both up. And Joonmyun, birthday boy that he is, he's helpless to resist, finds himself curling forward, clinging tightly to his mess of a love.

**Author's Note:**

> in 2015, a suho bday fic


End file.
